I Watch My World in Black and White

Another one on neurodivergence

Photo by Getty Images on Unsplash

Like a drop of ink poisons an entire glass of water, minor mediocrity turns me into a complete failure.

Recently, I went to another poetry -reciting open mic. I performed. However, I spoke a bit too fast. Everyone clapped, yet I felt like the fraud of a century.

Why?

Because I wasn’t utterly perfect. Because I came up too short. A failure.

People used to see my performance as a kid. 59/60 A Silver medals

To them, this was sheer perfection. The perfect grades, the perfect child. But my mind always went to that one mark, to that A+, to that gold medal. Why hadn't I done enough to secure those?

Such is the binary engine of a neurodivergent mind. I see everything in black and white. If it’s not perfection, it’s sheer failure.

Sometimes I even convince myself that people are secretly thinking about what a failure I am. “My god, she could’ve done so much better, how is it that she always falls short by that one mark? What an idiot.”

Of course, as I grow up, I realise that that is an assumption and most likely not the case. But it still instills a cold terror in me.

It feels like jumping off a cliff. Either you make it to the utter side, or you lack the emotional suspension to cushion your fatal blow. And once you hit the ground, it takes time before your wounds clot.

There’s this ‘condition’ called Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. It essentially means that real or perceived rejection and abandonment have an extremely averse effect on the neurodivergent mind.

Neurotypicals have this shock absorber, sometimes it separates what they did from who they actually are. Sure, every individual is different so some may not be able to do this, but the majority does.

An example is sending an email. If they make a typo, it doesn’t crush their entire self worth. They figure that though they did make a typo, it still means that they are good at their job.

For a neurodivergent, this wall of self acceptance does not exist. A mistake bleeds into who they are.

I made a typo? I’m terrible at everything, I can’t believe I could make such a basic mistake.

Sounds like hyperbole but unfortunately that’s how my, and many others’ minds process things.

If I were to share my own experience, it’s that I’ve always felt different from my peers. God, that sounds so pick-me but it’s just how it is. Judge me, I suppose.

I didn’t cry as much, but felt emotions so strongly. I didn’t express myself, but felt overwhelmed due to sensory overload. I had a good memory, but I had the curse of everyday forgetfulness.

I worked so damn hard to mask these idiosyncrasies, that all my energy went into this. And so, perfection became my only currency, the only way I stayed ‘normal’ and relevant.

Be perfect. Be perfect so no one can question who you really are.

And so when this perfection is lacking, my mask slips. I’m terrified that people will realise that I’m just a fake, a failure, a lazy and undisciplined blob of nothingness.

Walking on this tightrope that doesn’t have any safety measures in place is taxing on my soul. If I fall, I’m right in the canyon of self loathing.

Sure, every cloud has a silver lining but falling off of this line means I fall and make a bloody mess on the ground.

This is exactly why I’ve quit so many hobbies. Tennis Crochet Basketball And at one point in my life, writing.

Recently I wrote an article which felt lazy to me. Hearing from someone else’s mouth that they agreed made me question my entire existence and I nearly deleted this account. But I have to practice receiving constructive criticism, don’t I. After all, I pride myself on being able to accept and place honesty on a high pedestal.

As a child, I had drawers and drawers of unfinished projects. Because what if they could possess the slightest imperfection? What if?

It’s safer to quit.

I was having a conversation with my friend. She asked why I was feeling anxious, I said that I was terrified of achieving 90% instead of 95%.

She told me that because I was so desperately chasing that 5%, I forgot to appreciate that I’d managed to completely overlook the goddamn 90% that I had achieved. That’s no small fete, after all.

So yeah, slowly, I’m learning that instead of trying to find a neatly packaged self help solution, I need to accept that I can’t logic my way out of such an intense emotional response.

I need to accept, appreciate what I already have, what I’ve already achieved instead of crying over the what-ifs.

The shame I feel after a flawed task isn’t a reflection of my actual worth — it’s just a hyperactive smoke alarm in a brain that has been forced to defend itself for too long. I’m going to give myself permission to let the work be a little broken, because a cracked mirror still reflects the light.

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